


Gomenne Gomenne

by ItsuwariSekia



Category: Danganronpa
Genre: Abuse, Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsuwariSekia/pseuds/ItsuwariSekia
Summary: Toko in love with someone else
Relationships: Genocider Syo | Genocide Jack/Shinguji Korekiyo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Gomenne Gomenne

The sky was cloudy but the sun still shone brightly, ignorant of the event unraveling below. Bluebirds chirped and flowers still grew, the sound and smell an obvious reminder of summer, sweet, sweet summer. I'd rather it rained. I wished those flowers would wilt. I wished the world would look as dark as I felt inside. My daddy was a very handsome man. Back then he'd been nearly twenty-four years old while I was six going on seven. He had sleek silvery hair that he always kept in either a messy or neat ponytail (depending on the day), strands often escaping his elastic. His thin eyes were often narrowed and focused and he never let himself get distracted when someone wanted his attention- unless that person was me, that is. Those striking ruby irises of his never left a person's face when speaking to them, not even when he was nearly sick with intoxication and seconds away from vomiting all over the floor. It made people nervous, including I, myself.  
He wasn't overly tall, though to me he seemed a giant at his height of five foot nine. I didn't know my own height; I'd never been measured. I'm sorry, Papa..." I mumbled quietly. He was right; one word too steep and we'd both be in very big trouble, wouldn't we?  
I was dismissed with that warning and given permission to once again view the empty shell that once housed my mother. Maybe she was happy to be gone. Maybe Daddy was right, maybe she only pretended to love me, just as he claimed she did! Either way, it hurt to see her again. Whether her love for me was true or not, she took care of me, protected me. That was all I'd ever wanted.  
Eventually, they closed her casket. There was no special ceremony in any church- her viewing was now and her burial shortly followed. I had mixed feelings about it all. On one hand, I hated her, hated her for leaving me, while on the other... she was the woman who'd birthed to me, who'd fed me, who'd sheltered me from whatever awful thing Daddy wanted to do to me.  
Come to think of it, she'd never specifically told me what it was she'd been protecting me of, only ever replying with 'the badness of this world' or 'your father'. I'd always assumed she'd protected me from the flying plates.  
Sometimes, out of nowhere, when Momma and Daddy were yelling loudly, plates would start flying as if by magic and would smash into my dear Mommy. Shards would implant themselves into her soft skin and she'd bleed, really bleed. They never seemed to attack Daddy, only poor Momma, Momma with the rainbows on her skin.  
... You know... Daddy never ever had any colored spots on his skin. It was as if he were protected by some invisible barrier that fended off flying plates, as well as whatever else might have given Momma her polka-dot patterns.  
Seeing her like that, lying in that lonely brown box, forever silent, made me want to cry, but I forced back my tears. What good was there in crying over a dead body? This wasn't my Mommy anymore, this was just some empty carcass. There was nothing to cry about, nothing but some empty shell... yet the tears fell against my will. Pretty Mommy, beautiful Mommy, will you grow ugly, buried in that ground? Or will you stay beautiful forever? Where have you gone? Won't you come back to visit? Of course, at the age of nearly seven, I already knew the answers to my questions. There would be no more of my Mommy. Momma was gone forever.  
I remember something wet sliding down my cheeks, something blurry blinding my eyesight, something shaking my entire body and hearing the sound of soft crying.  
As the last scoop of dirt was replaced onto her fresh grave, I heard my soft sniffles turn into one lone wail. My father twitched. He came behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing a little too hard. "Quiet," he ordered, and then there was nothing. Not another sound was made.  
The drive home was a quiet one. While Momma had always told me I was too young to ride in the passenger's seat, Daddy didn't care. I stared out the window at the miserable rain that had begun to fall, as if finally the sky were aware and mourning Momma's death. "You told them she jumped, Daddy," I mumbled.  
"Mm-hm." He turned the windshield wipers on but didn't look at me. His voice was monotone and disinterested.  
"Daddy, I thought lying was bad! Mommy told me so!"  
"Did she?" He turned the steering wheel left. "She was a really stupid lady. Forget about anything she said, she's crazy."  
My eyes widened. How could he say such cruel things about Momma?! "Daddy... will you lie to me if I ask you something?"  
"Mm."  
I knew that would probably be as much of an answer as I'd get from him. Daddy didn't find kids like myself interesting- or at least, not when it came to conversation. "Daddy... why did you push Momma?"  
I remember it clear as day.  
We'd been driving and, as usual, Momma and Papa were arguing over something. They were yelling so loudly I thought the plates would start flying around again out of nowhere, but nothing flew around in our car but insults, threats, and curses. Suddenly, Daddy pulled over onto the side of the bridge. A few cars honked at us but none stopped. They all obliviously sped by.  
"Get out, both of you," he ordered menacingly.  
I'd thought he'd force us to walk home, as he had quite a many times before, but instead, he directed us to the edge of the big structure. "Look happy," he mumbled to us.  
I forced myself to smile, though inside I was scared, worried and confused. Momma didn't bother. She rebelled silently by keeping her frown in place.  
"Here, step onto the ledge with me," Papa said, offering her his hand with a smirk. Below the bridge was water, lots of water. It rushed to the other side in a busy frenzy, the current disallowing it from going back the way it came. The reflection of the bridge wavered in the sparkling blue and I remember wondering if I'd see any fish.  
The ledge was thick enough to stand on without balancing, yet I still felt nervous. If I took even just one step forward, I'd be going swimming. Daddy wouldn't like it if I came home soaking wet.  
"It's nice, isn't it, Honey ?" he asked, though his voice didn't at all seem casual. Momma and I had both heard that voice of his before, seen that familiar grin on his face. He had an idea so terrible, it even made him look terrible.

It's nice," Momma agreed, nodding civilly. Maybe she'd already known by then what he wanted. Her right hand reached down to me and I grasped it with all ten of my tiny fingers, feeling a little less nervous with her to hold onto.  
"... With all that clothing, you must be hot," Daddy continued.  
It was true; Momma wore a long-sleeved gray shirt and a big white skirt, ripped and soiled in many places, as well as tights underneath. It was a wonder she hadn't melted under the hot summer sun! I knew why she did it; she didn't like anyone seeing her rainbow spots. Sometimes, she even hid them from me.  
"You know... I'll bet that, with the weather out here and all those clothes you're wearing, you're probably thinking of going for a swim... aren't you?" He laughed, a sound of pure evil. Momma's grip tightened around my hand.  
"No, I'm not feeling all that tempted," Momma said calmly. "In fact, I'm actually feeling quite cold. I'd like to return to the car where the temperature is much warmer."  
The car really was a lot hotter, steaming, even. Daddy's old car was rusty and broken in many ways- one of them being the air conditioning.  
Daddy grit his teeth. "I don't believe you," he spat, his lips still stretched in a fake smile. "I won't let you lie to me. You can go take a swim, the brat and I will wait in the car." His gaze shifted to me. "Come on, kid." He stepped off the ledge back onto the bridge and made his way back to the car. I wasn't sure whether or not to follow. Momma let go of my hand.  
"... Mommy...?"  
"What are you doing, kid?!" Daddy called. "I said you're waiting in the car!" He glared at me, furious with me for having disobeyed him. I wasted no more time and rushed over to him, where he held the door open for me. He slammed it closed at soon as my feet were inside the vehicle and strode back to Momma.  
I watched them both. He came up behind her as if asking her a question. I couldn't see her face but I knew she'd said something he didn't like; his 'casual' expression was replaced by rage and he yelled something at her. She stood straight as a board, refusing to give in to whatever he was asking her. And then he brought his hand to her back.  
At first, I'd thought he was going to pull her off that ledge forcefully. Instead, he shoved her forward. I didn't understand why until I saw Momma stumble, lose her balance, and...  
"MOMMA!"  
A car screeched nearby. From nowhere, a man ran up to Daddy. Daddy mimicked a look of panic, gesturing wildly and pulling on his hair, though I knew he was struggling not to laugh.  
All I could see was Momma, falling into nothingness like some lead-weight puppet. The more I thought of it, the better I saw it; Momma standing there on that concrete ledge, Daddy pushing her, Mommy falling forward, her thin marionette strings snapping uselessly...  
"MOMMA! MOMMA! MOMMA, NO! MOMMA...!" I couldn't stop my screaming, my crying, and soon enough my words became sounds of gibberish swallowed by shouts of sorrow, cries of agony, screams of loneliness. Because from then on, I'd be alone. There'd be no one but Daddy, but he didn't pay much attention to me anyway.  
Or at least, he hadn't before.  
"I don't know what you're talking about, Rin." He said it so casually when we both knew very well what I was talking about.  
"Daddy, I thought you said you wouldn't lie to me," I said quietly. I was afraid of Daddy sometimes. Whenever the plates would start flying, he was always there. It was as if he controlled them with his mind, with his anger. But it couldn't have actually been him doing something like that. Daddy wasn't always nice but he wasn't mean. No, he couldn't be mean His car blew heat into my face. I hated driving in the summer because I'd always step out all sweaty and tired and we never had enough money for ice-cream, Mum would say. Already my black dress was sticking to my skin, clinging to me in a way that was never comfortable.  
Papa never answered me, so we drove along in silence. All I had were my thoughts. Thoughts of ice-cream. Thoughts of pushing. Thoughts of Momma...  
Sometimes, when Daddy let her, I remember Mommy would come into my room before bedtime and she'd tell me stories, different stories for each new night. I never knew whether they were real bed-time stories or stories she'd make up in her head, but I loved them either way.  
Once, she'd told me a story I'd loved about a girl trapped in a tower. Her name was toko , just like me, and her father was afraid that someday she'd get married and leave him. "He'd think, 'Iftoko falls in love with someone, she'll be so busy that she'll forget about me!' That's how he thought, Toki-baby. That's why he did it." He'd locked up his daughter in a room at the top of the tower and locked the door so no one would ever be allowed in.  
Except one day, a boy found the tower. He was a pretty boy with magical-colored hair- pink or purple, maybe - and he was so handsome that Toko fell in love with him at first sight. He found her and fell in love with her too, so he decided to go back to town to fetch a ladder. He saved Rin from that tower and they ran away together and lived happily ever after.  
"That story makes me feel sad, Mommy..."  
"What? Why?"  
"Because! The poor daddy only wanted to be loved, but the girl ran away with a stranger. You're not supposed to talk to strangers! That's bad! And... And then the daddy must have been so lonely after. All he wanted was to love her, right? Right mommy? He didn't do anything wrong!"  
Her mouth had tightened into a line as her eyes grew smaller. "... You should stop thinking like that, Toko."  
"Huh?"  
"Don't feel bad for the daddy; if he hadn't locked the little girl up in the tower, she wouldn't have run away."  
"But he did it because-"  
"He doesn't love you, Toko!" Her words had been quick and sharp, like a slap in the face. As soon as she'd spoken her eyes had widened and she'd covered her mouth with her hand. "I didn't mean to say that..." Her big blue eyes had watered. "Oh shit... I'm sorry Toko But it's true. He doesn't love you..."  
"Of course not, Momma! The daddy doesn't love me, he loves the toko from the story!" I'd said.  
She'd gently cupped my face and bent down close to make sure I was watching and listening. "Rin, I know you won't understand just yet, but I need you to make sure that someday, please, someday... You have to try and run away from the tower. You don't need a magic prince to save you, you just need to run, get away from here. Or... Or maybe... I could...?" Her eyes had opened even wider as if she'd realized something incredible.  
"Maybe you could, what?" Oh. Daddy was standing there in the doorway, listening. He'd given Momma an evil look and I'd known even then that she was going to have a long and terrible night.  
I'd heard it too, the slapping sound like when you clap your hands followed by Mommy's cry. I'd heard her sob all night while Daddy'd yelled at her. But I couldn't do anything to stop it; this was her punishment. Whenever Mommy or I did something wrong, we needed punishment so we'd learn never to do it again. It was a rule.  
I never forgot that story, the one with the princess in the tower. She disliked re-telling it following that night but I'd insist; it was one of my favorites. Every time she told it there were some things she left out and new things she'd add in- like the fact that the boy had tried climbing the vines on the tower at first but fell down and nearly broke his arm, or that after their happily ever after they'd gotten married and had two kids.  
Still... every time she'd begun storytelling I'd sat there patiently, asking questions if ever I had any. ("What? Winnie the Pooh is yellow?! But that's impossible! He must have dyed it. Bears just aren't yellow, Ma.") I loved her voice, the way she spoke; Her deep voice had a bit of a raspy tone to it and sounded so proud and strong... I'd always wished my voice would grow to be that way. I'd always wished to grow up and be just like Momma had been. Just... like... Momma...  
"Stop crying. Crying is for babies."  
All I wanted was to be loved. Momma loved me. She told me so all the time. But Daddy didn't, did he? Momma had told he didn't. But I really wanted Daddy to love me... Sometimes, it was all I ever wanted. Why couldn't he love me?  
"What did you say?"  
I looked over at Daddy. I hadn't meant to say anything... What did I say? Had I been mumbling? I stared at the windshield, watching the raindrops race each other down the glass, hoping Daddy would ignore whatever I might've said.  
He didn't. "What did you say?!" he repeated angrily.  
These were the times when Daddy would scare me. His red eyes became like balls of fire and his mouth drew back in a way that showed some of his teeth, which were more like fangs than anything else; pointy and white and ready to tear a piece out of me if necessary (not that he ever had).  
He kept his hands on the wheel but leaned over me as if he needed to prove he was bigger and stronger.  
"I-I don't know what I said!" I cried out, and it was the truth, too. I didn't know what I'd said. I could only hope it wasn't anything bad.  
"Tch." He kept his eyes on the road but I knew I shouldn't bother him anymore. He wouldn't want to talk to me.  
It'd already been a week since Mommy died. After Daddy pushed her, it was just him and me in our house, but I didn't talk to him. He didn't talk to me either. It was really lonely. I stayed in my room most of the time, except when I got hungry. I couldn't cook, and I'm not sure Daddy could either, so if my tummy started to grumble I'd get up and pour myself a bowl of Cheerios. Cheerios for breakfast, Cheerios for lunch, Cheerios for dinner, always those same o-shaped pieces of cereal with sour-tasting milk, if we had any. We'd run out two days ago, so now I ate my cereal without the milk. It didn't taste as good.  
What I wanted most now was ice cream. Once when I was little, Momma brought me to a place called church, and when it was over, we waited in a parking lot for Daddy to pick us up. Daddy was always late to pick us up, so after we waited for a whole hour, one of the church-ladies with the funny clothes bought me some ice cream from a store nearby. She asked me what kind I wanted and I told her to get me the orange one, because orange was my favorite color. It was so good... It cooled me down really quickly.  
It was always hot here where I lived, always super-duper hot until winter. In winter it snowed and got really cold and sometimes, my hands would get purpely-black. Momma was really scared of my hands. She even brought me to a doctor once, and he said it was just because of the way my skin was. I just needed to wear a coat and gloves. I saw her smile and say thank you but we both knew it was impossible; I didn't have any coat or gloves. We didn't have enough money for that.  
But no matter what the weather was, what was really weird about where I lived was that it was always dry. Even when it rained, it was a dry rain, and every breath of air outside made your lungs feel tiny. It was because it was so dry that the weather was so polar. There was never such thing as in-between; it was either burning or freezing. And I hated that.  
One of the stories Momma had told me about at night was about a boy living in the Amazon. That was where I wanted to live. In the Amazon, it rained a lot, but it wasn't our dry rain; it was the kind of rain that made the ground muddy and made puddles and made the air smell like wetness. Here, the rain kind of hurt, stung. Although maybe that was just because of my weird skin.  
In the Amazon there were birds that talked and huge dangerous snakes and monkeys that swung on ropes and even evil fish that would eat you if you got real close. In the Amazon, everything was an adventure! I wanted some excitement too! So I promised Momma that someday, when I was twenty-three and rich and married, I'd take her and Daddy with me to the Amazon, where we'd explore the jungles for the rest of our lives.  
Momma had smiled at me and said calmly, "I don't think Daddy likes jungles." And that was that.  
But now, she wouldn't be able to come with me to the Amazon, would she? Not even if I did become rich and famous because now, Momma was dead. Dead...  
"Get out, kid. We're here."  
Oh. Home.  
I opened the car, being careful not to get any rust on my hair, and followed Daddy to our house.  
It was made of wood and always smelled kind of weird, like rotten vegetables. Momma had always argued it was falling apart, but Daddy only ignored her. Besides, we didn't have money to buy a new house.  
Our windows were almost all broken, nailed shut with scraps of wood (that had probably fallen from the house itself) or kept closed with duck tape. One of the only windows that was still intact was the one in the bathroom. The one in the attic seemed fine too, but I wasn't allowed up there.  
"What are you waiting there for? Get in already, stupid kid."  
I didn't want to get him angry. I opened the door (it was always unlocked) and went inside.  
Henry the mouse scurried past as soon as the door opened and I suspected he'd been on the other side, running off in fear of getting smooshed. I wondered where his wife Molly was. And their baby Phil, too.  
There were broken plates still on the floor. Momma had always vowed to get paper ones instead, but she never did. Whenever she went to the store, she always bought the more expensive china ones. Maybe because she knew Daddy would get angry if the ones she bought were different.  
I walked through our small kitchen and down the small hallway. My door was the second one to the right. The first one was Mommy and Daddy's and the one on the left side was the bathroom. I closed my door behind me and leant against it. Just stood there, leaning against the door, unable to stand by myself anymore.  
I felt empty, which wasn't right for a girl as little as me to feel. Little girls like me were supposed to be happy and cheerful, with dreams of ponies and rainbows. That was how every girl in Momma's stories was. Even though they were in sad places, they were still optimistic and cheerful. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't find that optimism. I couldn't find the rainbows. I was empty.  
Somehow - and I don't remember how - I got to my bed, a big blow-up mattress on the floor, and began to cry again. That's all I'd done in the last week, cried on my bed. Normally, whenever I cried, Momma would come and find me and would hold me until everything was better... Until everything was okay, whispering words to me until I fell asleep in my arms... Except no one came. For the longest time, I was alone. And that made me cry harder.  
After a really long time, I heard the doorknob turn. I sat up quickly, thinking just for a moment that finally, after having waited for so long, Momma had finally heard me and was coming back to tell me that everything would be okay, everything would be fine...  
But no. It was Daddy. Because Mommy was dead now.  
"Kid, you stink," he said, looking me up and down. "When's the last time you fucking showered?"  
Now Daddy was the only one I had left.  
"I don't know."  
He shook his head. "You stupid..." He mumbled something. "Come on. Strip and shower, you stupid brat. You know how to do that, at least, right?"  
"Yes, Daddy..." Momma had made sure I'd know how to take showers by myself. She taught me when I was three, telling me it was my responsibility and that someday, she wouldn't be there to help bathe me. I'd assumed she'd meant went I was all grown up, but maybe she knew today was coming. I had a feeling she wouldn't like it if Daddy had to bathe me instead. She'd never liked letting him too close to me. It was probably because of the flying plates.  
Nervously I began to pull my black dress over my head. It probably seemed a little casual for a funeral, but it was all I had. At least it was long sleeved.  
It was a strange velvety material though it had long ago lost its shine. It was sticky and dirty, some places even stained white somehow. There were three buttons down the collar but I wasn't very good at undoing them, so I tried to force the dress over my head.  
I hoped Daddy would feel proud of me when he saw how I was able to undress so easily all by myself. I wanted him to feel proud of me, to clap and smile. I wanted him to love me, despite all of Momma's warnings.  
Yet when I'd finally discarded this itchy dress of mine, he only looked impatient. "What, you're going to keep your socks on in the shower?" he asked sarcastically, but there was something in his eyes, something like a strange kind of curiosity...  
I crouched and pulled my socks off one by one, dropping them on the floor beside me. They smelt funny and had holes in them all over, but they kept my feet a little warmer than they'd be without them. And... then I realized I still wore my underwear. Did he want me to take that off too? He seemed to. He still blocked the doorway with his arms strictly crossed, waiting. So I took them off. I felt a little shy standing there, completely nude, because the only one who'd ever seen me without clothes was Momma. But, this was Daddy, so it couldn't be much worse.  
He lifted one brow as I stood back up and cocked his head like he'd just realized something interesting. And then he stepped aside and allowed me through the door.  
I walked a little faster than I needed to the bathroom. I didn't want Daddy to tell me I was being slow. I wanted to make Daddy proud. I didn't even bother to go toilet first, because that would just be wasting time!  
Momma had already taught me how to turn on the shower all by myself. I only used it once every month or so because Momma told me water was expensive. I wasn't sure how often she or Daddy used it.  
When the water was warm enough, I climbed in. I heard Daddy step into my room and knew he'd probably be watching me, timing me, making sure I wasn't wasting a single drop of expensive water.  
I grabbed the cloth on the edge of the tub and began scrubbing at my skin until it turned red and began to hurt. "We don't have soap," Momma would say, "so we've got to get rid of all the dirt ourselves, which means we have to scrub really, really hard, okay?" And I knew Daddy was watching. He didn't say anything for a long time, not until I was scrubbing my head and hair.  
"How old are you again?"  
Proudly I answered, "I'm six, six and a half!"  
"Six, huh?" He looked me up and down. "Hm."  
"Daddy, how old are you?" I knew the answer already, but I was overjoyed by the fact that he'd talked to me. I wanted it to last as long as I could stretch it.  
"Just shower."  
Oh. "O-Okay..." He didn't say anything else until I was done, where he handed me the scratchy blanket to get dry with.  
And then it was bedtime.  
I was surprised Daddy followed me to my room. For the last few days we'd been here alone together, he'd completely ignored me. Was he going to read me stories now in Momma's place? I couldn't wait to hear what kinds of stories Daddy would tell.  
Except he didn't tell me any stories. He waited 'til I had my pajamas on, an over-sized red T-shirt Mom had found in a garbage somewhere, and watched me climb onto my bed. He didn't ask me if I was comfy enough or if I wanted any blankies. He just made sure I was in bed and then shut the door and left.  
That's what happened for the next few days. He'd wait for me to climb onto my bed and then he'd leave.  
Except one strange night, he didn't just wait and leave.  
About a week after Momma's funeral he turned and shut the door, but stayed in my room. It was kind of dark, but I still saw him walk over.  
"Rin... You know your Mom never liked ya, right?" I could even hear his breathing. It was wonderful. "Your ma, she only took care of ya cause it's against her morals to kill people. If it weren't for her, I'll admit, you'd probably be gone a long time ago, but, eh." There was a rustle of movement, like he'd shrugged. "You're kinda growin' on me."  
What did that mean? Was that bad?  
"I jus' need to make sure you know that nobody out there likes you." His ruby-red eyes stared right into mine, glared, making sure I understood. "Nobody. They may tell you they like ya, but they lie. The only one who will ever love ya is me, you got that? Anything I ever do to you, it's cause I love you." He cringed like the words tasted salty in his mouth. "But I'm the only one who'll ever like you, and you'd better get used to it, 'cause it's true."  
"You... You love me?" I'd never heard such happy words. "Daddy, you love me, really?"  
There was a long moment of hesitation, but he nodded. I saw him nod. I saw him admit he loved me. And that made everything all better. It made me forgive him for pushing Momma and for being mean to us and for being scary sometimes. If he loved me, that meant he hadn't wanted to upset me. It meant he just wanted me to be happy, but that he'd made a few mistakes. Daddy loved me. Daddy loved me! It was hard to think of any greater possible news. The wishing star had answered my prayers! Daddy loved me!  
Without thinking I sprung myself into his arms- or, tried, but missed. I ended up hugging his mid-section, right over his tummy. He seemed surprised, of course, but I'd done it without thinking. I should have known he wouldn't have liked it.  
He pushed me off a little too roughly and I hit my elbow off the wall as I fell. My funny bone tingled all throughout my arm in a way that didn't hurt but didn't feel too good either.  
"Don't attack me," he said in a deeper voice. Warning me. Threatening me. "If you do that again, ever, I won't give you any more chances."  
"Okay Daddy, okay!" I was too happy to let it bother me too much.  
There was a long minute of silence as he debated on something within his head. His facial features changed a lot, from frowning to his eyebrows raising. And then his pupils looked to the other side instead. Oh, and now his lips were pouting more! It was interesting to watch. Finally, very slowly he said, "You know that anything I'll ever do to you, I do it 'cause I love ya, right? Right, kid?"  
I nodded vigorously, eager to please. I'd do anything to make Daddy happy.  
Very slowly he reached out and cupped my face, tilting it upwards. He looked into my eyes with those scary red orbs of his and whispered, "You look just like your mom, but without the wrinkles and the ol' bitchy attitude." I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I kept silent. I wanted to know what he was doing, didn't want to divert his attention. It was so rare that Daddy ever even looked at me, so to have him so close now... I was thrilled.  
Still very slowly he brought his face closer and then, for some reason, I felt something touch my lips. My automatic response was to jerk back out of reflex, but he had his other hand pressed against my head to prevent that. And by recoiling the way I had, it was like pulling the plug out of the sink; suddenly he crushed his mouth against mine without any warning whatsoever and for a moment I was scared. Ah, but why?! It was just Daddy! Just Daddy! Daddy said he loved me, so he'd never do anything bad to me!  
He pulled away and smiled, seeming satisfied with his experiment.  
"Why did you do that?!" I asked, struggling to find my breath.  
"Why did I do what?"  
"That's what the prince is supposed to do to the princess!" My head was hurting and it was hard to breathe. "So... So why did you do it, Daddy?"  
His smile stretched. "Do you know why the prince does that,toko?"  
Oh. It was the first time in a long time that he'd actually called me by my name. The time at the funeral didn't count; he'd only done it because the others were there. But this time, he'd really said my name, by choice, not because he had to... "N-No, I-I don't know..."  
"He does that because he likes her, Toko He likes the way she looks. He loves her." Likes the way she looks...?  
"And that's why he gets married to her, right?" I asked, my eyes big and innocent. "Because he loves her, right?"  
"Yes, Toko,that's right. But you see, the prince does that because he loves her. So the reason I did what I did is because I love you, toko." He smiled. "You understand?" Those ruby eyes of his burnt with a different kind of scary, a scary I disliked even more than I usually did.  
All of this was just so confusing to me... "So... Does that mean we're going to get married?"  
He started to protest then paused and stopped altogether. "You know what? Sure. Let's get married." I started to get up when he interrupted and said, "Not right now. Later, someday, we'll get married and I'll show you what married people do." His eyes glinted. "I don't know how I never realized this before... It'll be so much fun to teach you new things. Don't you want to learn new things,toko?"  
I was a little uncertain of my answer now, but I nodded anyway, unsure what I was promising myself to.  
"Great! Good. Well then, I'll see you tomorrow." He laughed as he left my room that night, a laugh that gave me shivers.  
I felt scared for some reason afterwards and didn't sleep too well. Something felt bad, something felt wrong. Something just wasn't right, and that was scary. But... Daddy said he loved me, so that meant everything was okay... right?  
Our 'wedding' would be a few months later, against my will, and from there everything famously spiraled downwards.  
All I could say was 'I'm sorry' and bear with the abuse that I grew to realize kind of hurt, and hoped someday he'd love me enough not to use it anymore.  
Yes, this was the beginning of something dark and taboo, disgusting, disturbing, and not meant to be. How sad it was to think that this was only the very start and that the finishing line was simply nowhere to be seen.  
'Oh Daddy, I'm so sorry.I'm so selfish for disliking your attention.  
Daddy, forgive me please,I know I'm being a bad girl for asking this of you.  
I'm really sorry Daddy,I don't mean to make so many mistakes.  
But suddenly, I don't really want Daddy's love anymore.'


End file.
